


The Wring Woman

by La_Flauta02



Series: The Wring Woman Trilogy [1]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Norse Religion & Lore, SCP Foundation, Slender Man Mythos
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 03:51:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Flauta02/pseuds/La_Flauta02
Summary: Two Earths. Two dimensions: one good, the other deadly. Folks refer to them as the Good Twin and the Evil Twin. A species of neutral-natured hybrids watches over everything in both places.Late winter, 1950. Another species has infiltrated the Evil Twin. It’s up to the Earthling hybrids to find out who has arrived and why they’ve come to Earth.They’re called the Faceless—and they know everything.





	1. Sharks

Keeping the human populous in check—not a job for humans. They’re funny little things. I called their race a “spontaneous combustion of unethical paradoxes”. The war was a prime example of that. Everybody, everywhere, working together to help their allies across the globe. And still, millions of lives were lost in the process. Men, women, even children. Our economy was booming again, but at what cost?

The new decade just begun, and already, this country had sunk into the blindness and ear-aching stupidity that would forever stand as a sociocultural mental instability. The American middle class turned itself into the party of “dollhouse-ism”. The worst of social expectations took over the minds of the humans and they just rode with it, resulting in a darkness underlying a sugary surface.

I marched through the grove with my friend and partner Gil-Su. We were thinking the same thing: the 1950s were going to be one creepy decade. I drug proof of that behind me on the ground. The man appeared to be forty years of age, stood at five-foot-eight and weighed at least one-fifty. A fit man, worked well with physical labor. The only problem was the dumbass lacked self control.

He beat his teenage son often. No matter what the mother tried to protect the boy, the end was always the same. The teenager received another scar. Tonight, however, was the last straw. He was going to flat out kill the boy all because of one late bus—something out of his control.

That was my cue. The idiot father began to strangle his son, but I never let him finish the job. I let the father die slowly, just what he deserved. The son and mother stared at me in shock. I just exited the house with the man’s body in possession. Well, I  _ teleported _ out of there like a channel changing on the television—or as Gil, me, and the rest of our kind called it, I “Glitched”.

A lean, muscled tendril from my back was all that connected me and the corpse of the father. I had six, but needed only one. Being half-human means being able to drag a body that weighs more than yourself easily with just one out of six tendrils. I felt my thick, black blood pump through my tendril into the man’s body. At the house, I’d stabbed him in the heart from behind, and gave him a blood donation.

“You couldn’t have just broken his neck?” Gil asked nonchalantly.

“Yes, do tell me how to hunt and kill my targets, Gil. I’m begging you”

“I’m just saying. Would help to avoid revealing a hint of our species next time.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh please. The mother and son are not going to call the cops—if they haven’t already.”

“And what makes you so sure?”

“Because the cops will never find us. And I was in my Other form, anyway. They may find  _ this _ asshole, though, if they ever think to look up.”

We stopped across my preferred tree to hang up the body. By “hang up”, I mean impale it on a branch. The Master who created us no doubt was watching us from afar somewhere, making sure we were still doing what he intended us to do. My tastes were pickier than he liked, but it got him to leave us alone.

I cut ties with the Master thirty years ago: 1919. He was a toxic son of a bitch, and not like the rest of us. He wasn’t human at all, but purely … monstrous. Although he didn’t look like much when it came to monsters (very minimalist), he still had the malevolent nature to put him at the top of the food chain.

Even after I left him, he had the gall to keep stalking me and many others, too, Gil being one of those others. He was my brother via bond. His visit today, though, was most peculiar.

He pointed at the old redwood tree. “This is the spot?”

I nodded. “Wait here.”

The other five tendrils emerged from my back. I stabbed another one through the body, and used the other four to climb. Eventually I reached up high enough so that humans passing by didn’t notice in their immediate surroundings. The Master would definitely look up once he came by. I was lucky enough to find a broken branch short enough to reach around, and just long enough for him to fit. I pulled the corpse up and practically slap-stuck him through the branch.

“And to answer your first question …” I called out to Gil before jumping down. My tendrils helped stick the landing. “Would you believe it slipped my mind?” I lied.

He snorted. “Romana, Romana. You’re the Wring Woman of Wine Country! Squeezing necks until they break is your signature method.”

“I also prefer to kill quick and easy. I don’t like struggles.”

“So now you’re lazy, too?”

I laughed and playfully pushed him. “Shut up.”

He balanced himself again, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “I know it’s not like you to be lazy.”

“Still, you showed up rather unexpectedly. What brings you to the land of stark white bullshit?”

“Come now, sister. You live in a great place.”

If only he knew. If only he saw what I saw even after I abandoned the Master. Innocent men hung, beaten, burned, even flogged. Kind, smart, and virtuous women whose bodies were train-wrecked. All because they were born with a different skin color. If you weren’t white, you were game. Sure, I was a lame white girl myself, but I knew better.

I understood that people who looked different from me didn’t deserve to be objectified like a bunch of animals. The police did nothing, and the judges were even worse. They were grimly prejudiced. If the humans would do nothing to stand up for each other, then maybe someone else should take up the job. Get rid of those creating the problems.

“It’s only great if you’re a white man,” I disagreed with him. “And I know if it’s you coming over, it’s not something trivial.”

“How right you are.” He paused our walk. Shit, this was serious. “Magnus is calling a meeting in his hometown.”

“Stuttgart? When?”

“Tomorrow night, and Evil Twin Stuttgart. You remember what his place looks like?”

I nodded. I’d been to Stuttgart before. It sure would feel awkward under a different sky color, though. Going to the Evil Twin version would be a new experience. I knew all the Cryptids that ran up and down the US. My knowledge of the monsters in Germany was a bit rusty, to say the least.

If it was the Master calling, I’d have thrown a barrage of questions at Gil. But it was Magnus to my relief. “I’ll be there.”

Gil escorted me home—a little cabin on the hillside—before Glitching back to Seoul. I was glad to see him, but not happy with the news. I bitterly locked the door before settling down in my armchair. I didn’t bother turning on the radio. Eventually, the police would find the missing father— _ eventually _ .

I hated lying to Gil, keeping important information from him. How I came upon that family wasn’t a coincidence. I didn’t have the stomach to tell him, though. Mainly because he’d have to report it to Magnus. Or I’d have to. Magnus was the first of us ever created and the head of us when the Master wasn’t around; and we told him everything.

The truth would have to wait. Magnus had called a meeting between the six of us. In Stuttgart—in the Evil Twin. Nobody left the oldest half-human unanswered. It was our job to keep them there. Occasionally, someone or something would break out somewhere on the Good Twin and we’d have to find it and kill it. Letting it run rampant meant it would seek out tasty humans to devour in order to satisfy its bloodlust. Not hunger.

Lucky for us, being half-human and given a more powerful half by the Master made us untouchable to the humans, and  _ some _ of the monsters. The Master was fully untouchable by all. Magnus, like the rest of us, wasn’t so fortunate.

I pondered into my sleep what Magnus could be calling a meeting for, and so soon. Gil didn’t question very much—especially when it came to the eldest of us—which I found odd. He saved questions for Magnus at meetings. I definitely had questions for him. No doubt I’d have them all answered at the meeting tomorrow night.


	2. Planes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romana travels to the Evil Twin to meet her family circle. She notices some differences that make her feel uneasy.

What was so great about visiting the Evil Twin? Nothing. A human would rather take their chances in a third world country if they knew what was good for them. No rest for the wicked. Literally. The humans who lived _ here _ were ants compared to those in the Evil Twin: the boots.

I took a trip down memory lane, going over all the Cryptids I encountered over the past forty years give or take. Every Wildman, Black-Eyed Person, seedeater, pocket and many more. My mind wandered to all the terrible humans I shamelessly killed there: serial killers, human traffickers, domestic abusers; psychopaths who manipulated and courted chaos, narcissists spoiled to the marrow, and sociopaths who relished watching everything burn.

We once had a case of “clown statues” in the Evil Twin United States; they turned out to be serial killers who shared a fetish for dead children. I remembered how livid I was when I found them out, and didn’t even breathe when I put an end to their reign of terror. I had the endurance to do what needed to be done, but the case took an emotional toll on me. Just a bit.

I pondered through all these memories and the reputation I built up as the Wring Woman, walking down Corona’s “never ending road”—so the humans called it. The road had an end alright, but they could never spot it correctly. About thirty feet away and closing in, I let loose a tendril and gave the open air a chilling whip crack before withdrawing.

The gateway appeared, opening up like a gash in time and space. It looked like a bloody wound thanks to the red and charcoal that eerily contrasted the blue-greenness of the Good Twin. I walked through the portal as if absolutely nothing exciting happened yesterday.

“You made it, sister.” Gil-Su joked. Funny that he should be the first living being I came into contact with in this cursed realm.

“Oh my dear dolly heart. An escort?” I jabbed back at him.

I heard the portal whoosh close behind me, feeling the emptiness from edge of the cliff. The rest of the road lay out ahead of us.

“I never told you which gate I’d be using,” I hoped he couldn’t hear the hints of curiosity _ and _ concern in my voice, “how did you know?”

“Would you believe it was a lucky guess?” He quipped, referring to yesterday. I knew he was lying, though. “Magnus changed the location: Lichtenstein. The city is … under management.”

Code for _ too dangerous even for us; trust me, you do not want to go there _. It wasn’t the first time Stuttgart underwent a pandemonium twice in a month. San Francisco had its own bedlam every now and then, but not as often as Magnus’s home city.

I sighed, but let out a small laugh after. “Ouch. Alright. Let’s get going before a Wildman finds us.”

Gil smiled and held out his elbow. I accepted. We Glitched from the wilderness of my beautiful California to the German mountains, south from the home of our eldest. Night time had come. From the red daylight and charcoal-colored plant life to the blood moon in the starless sky, making the city lights appear to be cowering from their vicious guardian up in the pitch black void.

The two of us hiked up the charcoal hill off the trail where the Cryptids couldn’t follow. Usually. Good Lord, did we hear them all around us. To our surprise, the walk up to the castle went smoothly.

We spotted Magnus ahead, waiting for us on a balcony. Lichtenstein would have appeared similar to a Brothers’ Grimm fairytale castle were it not for this eldritch atmosphere. It looked like the devil’s domain under the blackout above.

Gil and I heard labored snarling in the distance behind us. We turned around, eyeing a _ Nachzehrer _. Dreadful, godforsaken, vampiric things. It’s protruding rib cage and rotting apricot skin were just barely visible from our distance. It lifted its head and let out an ugly screech—like a bat and a dying pig combined. The primitive vampire stopped running, staring intently at us.

_ It’s famished, _ I observed. I transported a tendril into the ground; Gil followed suit.

Cryptids never came this close to an historical landmark; a first. Gil and I didn’t wait another second. Our tendrils shot up from the ground on either side of the creature and sliced straight through its neck. The monster collapsed. We retracted our tendrils, and continued onward to Magnus.

He greeted us each with a hug. “Thank you for that by the way,” referring to the _ Nachzehrer_, “they’re getting worse.”

“Starvation?” I offered.

Magnus shook his head. “Something else … I’ll explain everything inside.”

He put a hand each on our shoulders and we Glitched inside. The room he took us to looked like a private dining room or meeting room. Wooden furniture, beautiful paintings (they still stood, but were ripped up thanks to past invasive Cryptids), and a chandelier decorated with antlers. Admittedly, the castle was more stunning in the Good Twin.

Our other three family members had arrived before us: Omolara, Luisa Fernandez, and Binda Seeley. We briefly but warmly welcomed each other and sat down at the table, which conveniently had six chairs.

“My brothers and sisters of the Hexagon, thank you for coming.”


	3. The Hexagon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group known as the Hexagon meet for the first time since WII—not long. What horrid news has Magnus, the first Faceless, uncovered for them to see?

“My brothers and sisters of the Hexagon, thank you for coming. I would not have reached out to you on such short notice if it was not an emergency.”

I had never heard the word “emergency” spoken by Magnus before—Binda and myself. The others, maybe. 

“I apologize for changing the location so quickly. The riot in Stuttgart was rather unexpected. However, I’ve recently found something new in our midst. And this is not to be taken lightly.”

Magnus pulled from his jacket pocket something black and sticky. I thought it would turn out to be a string dipped in tar. Or belonging to some poor bird unwillingly swimming somewhere near one of the pits.

The black, sticky feather splotched on the table before Magnus. An eardrum crunching _ whoosh _ and the cackle of sparks woke us up. The feather levitated off the table. It stayed at face level for a moment, then burnt up in midair. It turned into a pile of ashes in the center.

Of all things.

No one said a word. We couldn’t. We knew what that stupid, plucked or shed, little feather implied. The air grew thin around us.

Before Binda joined the group, Luisa, Gil, Omolara, and Magnus helped me with everything the Master taught us individually. We were our own study group, that one party of people the forces of nature couldn’t separate.

It annoyed the living shit out of the Master—something I considered an accomplishment. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it and he knew it. The Faceless had no law against assembly.

Though we were half human and half of the Master, we were all still Earthlings. Pain of all kind was inevitable, and we would most likely get killed by _these_ people.

The gods did not like being bothered about any trivial matters. They either ignored us, or would incur their wrath for simply crossing paths with them due to unlucky circumstances. Even if they killed us without provocation, we were forever out of favor with them. No god or other Celestial was worth the risk.

The Celestials could easily kill us from afar—if we angered them that badly. They possessed hands that could demolish entire civilisations; that had strangled opponents to death within their powerful frames. Gods and Angels (fallen or not), and the humans were not for them. Nor were we. Therefore, the five of us passed on our knowledge to Binda—in a better manner than our freak creator.

The Master didn’t instill the fear of God into us, but all gods and anything similar to them. He _loathed_ them. That hateful attitude for them had consumed his entire being; thus, he constantly informed us to do the same if we wanted to survive.

“I understand what you’re all thinking,” Magnus broke our terrorized trance, “I wouldn’t have called this meeting otherwise.”

“You’re suggesting … _ they _ have found us? Found the Evil Twin?” Binda asked, a twinge of fright sprinkling his voice. “Wouldn’t there have to be a significant change or signal for everyone to see?”

“Yes … and no.” Yes to the significant change, no because _we_ were not everybody. “As for that ‘signal’, I did some research and found a most uncanny phenomenon in Stuttgart.”

He injected a tendril into the table. We watched a model of an inky black Stuttgart come to life, fitting the table perfectly. The typical two riots per month played out as normal. What struck me as odd was…

“Magnus, which bimonthly riots are we seeing right now?”

“… December, January, and February. All within this winter.” Holy fuck.

“_ This _ winter?!” Omolara asked astonished. “Three consecutive months of…”

Magnus’s tendril squirmed— “That’s not all,” —the setting of the city shifted, revealing the woods, fields, and other surrounding wildlife.

A number of Cryptids weaved themselves among the city residents: killing and attacking, wreaking havoc on the city. Many others were fleeing their habitats, some heading straight for this castle.

_ Pop_, went a Rake. Two. Three. A model of Magnus walked into view, throwing out his tendrils and killing any dangerous Cryptids that charged at him.

This time, all six of us took another silent moment to gather inner ourselves. It became clear what Magnus was really trying to tell us.


End file.
